Chronicle
by Amanda the Huntress
Summary: A mysterious green diary has been found, and it holds the key to unlocking the forgotten past of a lost people. A boy prince of a fallen kingdom is now a man, the last of his people and of his kind. Two brothers have been divided by an ancient evil bent on the destruction of everything they create. This is Chronicle, the lost history of Minecraft. Not your average Minecraft fanfic.
1. Prologue

**CHRONICLE**

**BEING THE PREQUEL OF**

**_A MINECRAFT TALE_**

_BOOK ONE:_

LYDIA

Prologue:

* * *

**Present Day  
**

_The priest stumbled across the ruins, pulling his robe a little tighter around himself as the wind picked up. There was no sign of anything living anywhere- anywhere at all. He had been traveling for hours now, picking through rubble and wreckage for something- anything- that would bring him to someone. It didn't matter who. All he needed was a survivor. _

_His foot slipped on a stone. The priest fell with a cry, tumbling down a slope he didn't see. He righted himself, flipping onto his back, but kept on sliding down and down the gravel. His feet punched through a burned-away wooden door, and he hit something bodily that stopped his fall. His backpack barely cuishined the blow and his breath fled his lungs on impact. _

_Coughing and gagging on the dust, the priest carefully rolled onto his hands and feet and painfully stood. It was too dark to see, wherever he landed. The priest used what little light that streamed through the broken door to fish a torch and a flint-and-steel from the recesses of his robe. With a few snaps on the flint, the torch was cheerfully burning and throwing a warm, yellow light about him. Stowing his tool, the priest hefted the torch and looked around, gaining his bearings. _

_He stood inside a house that was largely intact, but completely buried from the outside. He would have missed it if he hadn't fallen. The priest groaned as he pulled himself fully upright. He feared that he'd thrown something in his back when he fell, and with a slow bend backwards, something cracked and he was able to stand straight again. _

_The room around him appeared to be made of oak, which would explain why it had been able to withstand the weight of the stone and scree above. There was a bookshelf off on one wall next to a window with a writing desk below it, and a broken table and scattered chairs about the center of the room. A door on the far wall no doubt led to the rest of the house. _

_A patch of color under the table rent in two caught the priest's eye. He carefully stooped down and lifted the half of the table up, and found a green leather-bound book, open face-down with the pages bent but intact. Pushing the broken table aside, he carefully lifted the book from the ground, blowing dust off of its surface._

_Moving to the writing desk, still intact, the priest pulled the old, burnt-out torch from the bracket and replaced it with his own. He pulled the stool out from under the desk and tested it with his weight- it held sturdy. Slowly seating himself, he placed the book on the desk and peeled back the cover, scanning across the first page. He had a hunch about this. _

_His eyes caught a few words and stopped there. Quickly he fumbled for ink and quill in his pack, and drew out a few rumpled pages. He scanned the first few pages of the book again, and began to scribble down notes. _

_It was a journal of sorts, or perhaps a diary. The first few pages were in a large, exaggerated script of a child that knew how to write and was not yet confident. Later, the handwriting became smaller and less neat, obviously written much faster. The priest read and wrote late into the night, until his hands began to cramp and he had to stop for a while. _

_The priest awoke with a start. He had not realized he had dozed off and sat up from the desk, groaning and stiff. He now had several dozen pages of notes written, and had started to write carefully in his great codex journal. He gathered up his tools and notes, a deep sense of excitement rising up in him despite himself. This truly was a glorious find, after all. _

_Taking up his pack, the priest took the green-bound book and tucked it away in his robes, taking his torch out of the bracket. It had burned almost to nothing while he slept- he wondered how long it had been. _

_Picking his way back up the slope, the priest found himself blinking in the early dawn sun, just peeking over the horizon. He smiled to himself, realizing how lucky it was that none of the denizens of the night had found him. At last, he reached his donkey, hee-hawing ill-naturadely as it pulled at its lead. The priest chuckled at the impatient animal and untied the lead, heaving himself up onto the saddle and settling himself in. With more than a few firm slaps of the reigns, the donkey started plodding onwards to the east, to a place the priest had read of in the green diary._

_What a glorious find, indeed. He thought of the codex in his pack. _The Chronicle_,_ I'll call it_, he thought. A full history of the world from the beginning, starting with the creation. _

_And continuing with the wonderful account in the diary, from a woman named Lydia. A woman who had met the creators herself as a child. _

_A fabulous story, indeed. _

_The priest couldn't wait to write all of this down. He urged his donkey on to a faster pace, on towards the rising sun. _

* * *

**Years before  
**

Lydia flew into the door of her townhouse and slammed the door behind her, leaning her weight on it as she listened for the sounds of pursuit. The furious screams and grating cries of the Watchers were nearby, but she hoped she would have time. Chest heaving, she turned and backed away from the door, snatching her diary off of the desk by the window.

Fumbling for ink and quill, Lydia opened the book to the last blank page and began to write furiously. It had been a long time since she had written last in her diary, and she wanted it all written down. Someone would find it someday, she hoped desperately. Someone would know her story.

And the truth.

Her mind flew back to the smiling face in her childhood, one framed by long hair and dark, laughing eyes. The one her father had called a friend when no one else would, and built a shrine to on their homestead far to the south. The one, he said, that had created their kind. She thought of those empty, burning white eyes that had taken their place, the last things she had seen before her sister screamed for her to flee. She wrote of the fall of her sister's and brother-in-law's kingdom, and remembered with a stab of guilt her little nephew, Corren. She had fled before she could remember the danger the child was in.

Something hit the door, hard. Tears streaming, she looked over her shoulder and saw a Watcher's piercing lavender eyes through the glass windowpane on the door. She took the time to write one last line in her diary and slammed it shut, casting aside her quill. Turning abruptly, she curled her hand around the hilt of her slender iron blade and drew it slowly. She steadied herself for what was to come, sending one last prayer to Notch.

The Watcher's black claws gleamed through the gaps in the door frame. Lydia watched as those claws smashed through the window on the door, and grabbed a torch from the wall bracket, slamming the fire into those claws. The Watcher screeched and drew back. More claws appeared. Lydia battered them with the torch, but then one grasped her wrist. Lydia dropped the torch with a stifled scream. It rolled on the floor, smoke rising from the wood of the floor and the door. Wrenching free, Lydia backed away, settling into a battle stance.

She had nowhere to run this time.

A Watcher teleported into the room, and Lydia swung her sword.

* * *

**_Welcome, one and all to the official Prequel to A Minecraft Tale. Wait, did I promise a sequel first? Sorry about that. I got writer's block on that one, and bad. So, I'm going ahead on something I can write freely on. I bet you fans of A Minecraft Tale are wondering how it all began. The Shadow, Herobrine, the _Chronicles _and the _Book of Notch._ Well, here is a collection of tales that will fill in all the blanks that I left and explain some things. I present to you: CHRONICLE. Since this is a fan-fiction, I will be borrowing from popular_ _urban legends and from videos on YouTube and such. I hope you like Take Back the Night. _**

**_Have I intrigued you enough to keep reading? Make sure to leave a favorite and a review, and I hope to see you again soon next chapter. _**

**_Until then, Huntress out. _**


	2. The Diary

**CHRONICLE **

BOOK ONE: LYDIA

PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY

_Chapter One_, _The Diary_

* * *

**Present Day**

_The priest leaned against his barrel-chested donkey and signed, hopelessly stiff and sore from the uncomfortable ride. Massaging his aching buttocks, he walked stiffly into the clearing and slowly sank to the ground. _

_He cleared a space and lit a fire, and then went about lighting the torches in the surrounding trees. He had come here knowing he would find sanctuary for the night, but he had been surprised to find the place deserted. He hadn't heard much from his fellow Villagers, but surely those few wild rumors he had heard weren't true! Nonetheless, the walled-in haven in the forest, usually staffed by human rangers, was empty. And dusty, and looking jumbled and rummaged-through as if the last residents had left in a hurry long ago. _

_The torches lit, the priest went back to the fire pit and seated himself by the blaze, casting a baleful eye at the sinking sun. He hoped it wouldn't rain anytime soon, but he smelled a storm on the wind, and while the isolated forest sanctuary would protect him from the night-monsters, it would do little to keep him safe from exposure. Roughing it was not an option for him- he was too advanced in years. His bones ached from the ride, and no doubt his arthritis would be at it in the morning, and that's if it didn't rain. He wasn't sure what he would do if it rained. _

_Shrugging off his backpack, the priest pulled out his codex and the green diary, hoping to do a little more work before he went on. He had nearly finished writing in the first chapter, but he had to make sure he made no mistakes. Propping up the books side-by-side in his lap, the priest began to read over his work carefully. He started with the earliest history of the world, as described in the green diary. _

_The diary began with the story Lydia's father always told her._

* * *

**Years before: 248 F.E. (First Era)**

Jonas awoke to a tiny girl's big blue eyes staring intently at his. Chuckling, he pushed off his blankets and carefully sat up, making sure he didn't disturb his wife beside him.

"Oh, Lydia," he sighed. "Nightmares again?" The girl nodded. Jonas held out his arms, and helped the child climb up onto the bed and into his lap. Jonas stroked his six-year-old child's hair and hugged her close.

"It's going to be okay," Jonas soothed, still stroking his daughter's hair. Lydia was still trembling slightly in his arms. Jonas felt a swell of loving pride for his girl. Lydia hadn't shown her fear when she came in. Jonas looked down at that determined little face, now buried in his arm. He looked over at his wife, still asleep, as her swollen belly rose and fell with her breathing.

When Lydia stopped trembling, Jonas lay back down and let her climb over him to settle in the space between him and her mother. Lydia curled up against him, and in minutes was breathing slowly and evenly, fast asleep. Jonas shifted ever so slightly and closed his eyes again, putting one arm over his daughter, and the other to his wife.

He watched his wife's deep breathing as he pulled the blankets back up over himself and Lydia.

_It won't be long now,_ he thought to himself. _You're going to be a big sister, Lydia. _

The family fell asleep soon after.

* * *

The one thing Lydia enjoyed most was her father's stories. She would beg him every night until he gave in and sat down on the side of her bed, talking until she fell asleep. Her favorites were about the mysterious man he talked about from where he worked. The one that could make blocks appear out of thin air and fly up into the sky.

"I'll bring you to meet him some day," he always promised, "But first, there's more of the story to know. Do you know how I came to meet him?"

And from there he would go into the story of everything, starting with the creation.

"In the beginning, there were the brothers Notch and Herobrine." He told of how Notch had first called light out of the great darkness of the Void, and then made the World, layer by layer by layer.

"It was Notch that made the stone," he explained as Lydia watched him intently, "and Herobrine that made the ores and the caves. Notch made the sands and the grass and the skies, and all the rain and snow, and Herobrine made the animals and the trees. It was Herobrine that made us. And it is Herobrine that is still here. You see, Notch went away to work other parts of creation. He has not yet come back, but he will someday. Until then, Herobrine builds with us. Their shrines are in the Great Temple in the center of the city. I'll take you there to see it, someday."

Lydia waited expectantly until that day.

On her seventh birthday, Jonas brought something special home for her as a present. Lydia's mother, Alayne, was standing over her daughter's shoulder at the kitchen table, helping the girl hold her quill correctly and form letters. Jonas grinned broadly as he tip-toed into the room, exaggerating his movements as he snuck up on Lydia, making enough noise to get her attention before he was close enough. Lydia laughed and squealed, leaping from her chair as Jonas pantomimed fright at getting caught. He held his cloak out in front of him, making it obvious he was hiding something.

"What is it, Daddy?" Lydia giggled as she made a grab for the edge of his cloak. Jonas shook his head and danced away, still grinning and staying just out of his daughter's reach. When Lydia finally stopped the chase and stood, arms crossed over her chest stubbornly, Jonas swept his cloak aside to reveal his gift: A diary, bound in green leather with a small clasp to hold it shut. Lydia looked at him curiously.

"Happy birthday," Jonas congratulated, and then he and Lydia sat down at the table again, and he showed her that she could write anything she wanted in this diary. Lydia handled the clean white pages reverently, as if she were afraid of staining them with ink.

"What do I write?" she asked, and Jonas made a wide gesture.

"Anything you want. You can write down the stories I tell you, if you want, so you can always keep them with you."

So, for that first entry, Lydia picked up her quill, and with careful, extra-neat script, she began to write down her father's stories.

* * *

Hanna was born only a week later. Alayne was cooking in the kitchen with Lydia looking on, when she suddenly doubled over, moaning through gritted teeth. Lydia, terrified, asked what was wrong.

"Get you father," Alayne hissed, and jerked as another contraction racked her body. Lydia fled the room and pounded up the stairs, shouting her father's name as she pounded on the workshop door upstairs. Jonas swept open the door.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice worried.

"It's mommy," Lydia began. "She said to come get you." Lydia didn't know what was going on. Alayne moaned again, louder this time, from the kitchen. Lydia saw a look of terrified anticipation cross her father's eyes.

"I have to go," Jonas said breathlessly, and he took his daughter's hand and went down the stairs as fast as she could keep up. He helped his wife to stand, and helped her into the master bedroom and into bed. Then he flew out of the house and onto his horse, and Lydia and her mother listened as he clattered away. "Watch over your mother until I get back," were his parting words.

A few anxious minutes later, he reappeared with a woman Lydia had never seen before that shooed the seven-year-old and her father out of the room. The door slammed behind them.

That was when the screams began.

Lydia looked at her father, terrified.

"What's going on?" She demanded, her blue eyes wide. Jonas looked between her and the door and swept Lydia up in his arms. "Where are we going?!"

"I'm going to take you to work," Jonas answered. "It's going to be okay, Lydia." He didn't want Lydia to hear Alayne in so much pain. He was antsy enough as it was.

Jonas helped Lydia up onto his saddle- it was much too big for her- and then he mounted his horse himself. Leaving his wife to the midwife, he galloped away towards the middle of the city. Lydia held on to the saddle horn and stayed frozen against her father, quite terrified.

* * *

That day became one of the most detailed entries in her diary that Lydia had ever written. Jonas steered his horse down gravel roads that quickly turned to cobblestone that clicked instead of clatter. Lydia watched wide-eyed and awed as they came into the city and the small family houses and yards gave way to huge buildings in every color in every shape. And there were so many people! Lydia felt small and frightened with so many strange people around.

Jonas turned his horse down off the main thoroughfare and onto a side street that went behind several high earthen embankments. Lydia drew close to her father again, reaching up to grasp her father's arms around her from where she sat in front of him on the saddle. Her father sighed and let his horse slow to a trot, so Lydia would be more comfortable. A few yards later, they were off of the trail and out from between the high walls, up in the open again. The father and daughter were surrounded by dozens of people milling about, working with tools and moving blocks in sledges and lifting them on ropes and pulleys. Jonas pulled his horse to a halt.

"Hark there, Jonas!" Someone with a light mountain accent called. Lydia looked around for the source of the sound.

"Morning, Drayda," Lydia's father called back as he slid off the saddle and reached up to lift Lydia. A dark-eyed woman approached the pair from where she had been discussing something with several others gathered around a workbench.

"How's Alayne?" Drayda asked, stopping just in front of Jonas. She was taller than him by several fingerbredths. "Last I checked she was near due. I thought you took leave for that." Jonas looked at Drayda with a nervous expression.

"She's ah...it's happening now. The, uh..." Jonas stuttered, and Drayda threw back her head and laughed.

"And the midwife threw you out! For a good reason, too. Now who- Oh, Lydia! Wonderful to see you again!" Drayda bent down so that she was at Lydia's height and gave her a hug. "Scared about mommy?" Lydia nodded. Drayda grinned. "It'll be all right, don't you doubt. Your mother is a very strong and healthy woman. There won't be a problem." Lydia looked between Drayda and Jonas, confused. She didn't know what was going on. At seven, it hadn't yet been explained to her where babies came from.

"I hope not," Jonas muttered in a much less cheerful tone. Drayda put her hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, man, lighten up. It's a baby, not a bushfire. Besides," She added, with a meaningful glance at Lydia, "You're frightening your young one here." Jonas glanced at Lydia's face and closed his eyes, turning away. When he turned back, he was smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I can't help it. Can you do me a favor and show Lydia around? I promised her, but I... I'm not sure I can." Jonas's voice was strained. Drayda nodded knowingly.

"I'll give her a tour. You go get yourself a drink and see what you can do about the southeast corner on the foundation. It's too swampy there and the stones we lay keep sliding. Just get your mind off of this, because I know Rebecca's not going to let you back in until she sends for you herself. The old sourpuss." She and Jonas chuckled and parted. Drayda took Lydia's hand and guided her across the big open space to a huge half-finished structure.

Lydia knew Drayda as one of her "aunties", a close friend of her parents. She and Alayne had been rangers together for a time, until Drayda injured her leg with a bad fall. When Drayda couldn't go back to patrolling, she took to engineering on the advice of one of her brothers. Now she was one of her father's coworkers. Drayda still had a small limp, but she could walk again, at least. She was a tough woman, and both Lydia's parents trusted her with nearly anything.

"Want to see what your father's been building this past year?" Drayda asked, and Lydia looked up at her with anticipation.

"Yes, please!" She answered excitedly. Drayda smiled and led the seven-year-old into the construction site.

"You don't need to worry about things falling in this part," The tall woman explained. "The walls and the arches in the main structure are finished. All we have to do is add the rest of the covering."

"What does that mean?" Lydia asked, looking up at the empty space above, framed by high cross-arches and the tops of the wall.

"It means something like this: When you build something like this, you have to start with the base and the frame. The base, or the foundation, is what everything sits on. The frame is what holds everything up. It's what everything else is built on. In this case, that would be the pillars," Drayda pointed to the huge stone pylons that flanked them, "and the arches." She pointed above their heads. Lydia thought she understood.

"So this is our head architect's daughter?"

Drayda and Lydia both turned to see a man walking up to them from the entrance end of the unfinished hall. He was a lean but well-built man with dark eyes and dark hair that grew to his jaw. He wore a black shirt and blue pants, much like any other worker on the site. But despite is unassuming appearance, Lydia felt that there was something about this man. Something that was different than everyone else.

"Lord Herobrine," Drayda addressed the man in a friendly tone. Lydia blinked. Her father had talked about someone named Herobrine. Wasn't he the one that...

"Lady Drayda," Herobrine responded in kind, stopping and crossing his arms over his chest. There was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. Drayda snorted.

"I'm an ex-ranger, not a lady," Drayda protested, and Herobrine laughed- a light sound that made Lydia want to laugh with him. He raised one eyebrow.

"Formality to formality, old friend," Herobrine said, uncrossing his arms. "Call me Lord and I call you Lady. I'm only your creator god, after all. No need for titles."

Drayda and Herobrine both laughed as though this was some old mutual joke. Lydia looked between the two, confused. She wasn't sure what to think. Jonas had told Lydia that Herobrine was indeed a creator god, and very kind, but she didn't imagine this was what he was actually like.

"Lydia, is it?" Herobrine asked, kneeling down to Lydia's height. Lydia gasped and quickly hid behind Drayda's leg. She trusted Drayda, but strangers made her nervous. Herobrine looked down and shook his head, chuckling. "Come on out. I won't bite." With Drayda's encouragement, Lydia slowly came forward. "That's it. Come out where I can see you, child."

"Did your father tell you about me?" Herobrine asked in a soft, soothing tone. Lydia nodded shyly. Herobrine smirked. "I hope he didn't say anything embarrassing," he added, looking up at Drayda. Lydia was silent. She didn't know how to respond.

"Here. Let me show you what it is your daddy does." Herobrine took Lydia's cautious hand and led her to the far end of the hall, telling her all about the things Jonas did to help build it. Lydia began to relax, feeling safe around the powerful man. It wasn't long before she was pulling on Herobrine's shirt and reaching up with her little hands, a clear gesture to be picked up. Herobrine smiled warmly and swept the girl up in onto his shoulders, letting Lydia look around the hall from his height. Lydia giggled with delight.

Some time later, Jonas appeared at the entrance to the hall, hair mussed and dusty and out of breath.

"Lydia!"

His call got everyone's attention. Lydia, Drayda, and Herobrine all looked up, and Herobrine instantly knew what was going on. He bent down to whisper in Lydia's ear.

"You might want to hurry. Something exciting has happened." Lydia nodded, and she ran across the tiled floor to where her father waited. Without waiting for Lydia to ask what was going on, Jonas picked Lydia up and rushed across the construction site to where his horse was tied. Lydia was pushed up onto the saddle and Jonas leaped up behind her, and they went galloping away, down the streets without stopping until they were home.

Lydia wondered if she had done anything wrong. Jonas was unusually quiet, and he was tense on the saddle.

The strange woman was standing at the door with her hands on her hips.

"About time," Rebecca the midwife grumbled. "Get on inside. Alayne's been waiting for you."

"How is she?" Jonas asked breathlessly. Rebecca sniffed.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot. She's just fine, and the babe too. Now in with you! She's been working hard for the past six hours, and looks pretty good for it. Stop your worrying, she's fine!" When Jonas didn't move, the midwife grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him in the door. Jonas shook himself once he was past the door frame. Freeing himself from the ruthless midwife, he rushed past and into the house, bursting through the door to the master bedroom.

A joyous shout followed.

"Lydia!" He called, sticking his head out the door. "Lydia, come here!" Jonas was ecstatic. Scooting around the midwife, Lydia hurried after her father.

Alayne was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chest. Sweat soaked her hair and the sheets around her, and there was a basin of cold water and a damp rag sitting on the side table. An open bag with its contents spilling out was sitting in the corner. The midwife breezed in and looked around, then gave a grunt of satisfaction. She gathered up the bag and went up to Jonas, her hand extended expectantly.

"Everything went well, so no extra charges," she said shortly. Jonas fumbled in his pocket, and drew out a few bright emeralds, pressing them into the midwife's open palm. She nodded, and left the room without another word.

"Lydia," Alayne called softly, and Lydia came to the edge of the bed. Alayne struggled to sit up- Jonas quickly moved to help her and stack the pillows behind her. Alayne held something in her arms- Lydia didn't know what it was. It was something bundled up in cloths.

"This is Hanna. She's your little sister, Lydia. You're a big sister now." Alayne moved so that Lydia could see what she was holding. She recoiled in surprise when a small red fist extended towards her face. A thin wail emitted from the bundle. Lydia's mother quickly drew the child close to her chest and rocked, cooing and humming. The wail became more urgent, and the little fists fought free of the wrappings to wave in the air. Lydia pulled closer to get a better look. This was her little sister?

Big brown eyes stared back, and Hanna gave a delighted squeal, wrapping her hands into Lydia's loose hair.

That night, Lydia was sitting up in bed, balancing her diary on her knees as she tried to remember everything she had seen that day. Especially Herobrine. She even added a tiny doodle in the margin of one page, but she couldn't seem to get his face right. When she finally finished, she left the book open on the floor under the bed for the ink to dry and crawled under her covers, exhausted.

She dreamed of Herobrine like he was told in her father's stories that night, with those dark eyes full of joy.


	3. Riot

**CHRONICLE**

BOOK ONE: LYDIA

PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY

_Chapter Two, Riot_

* * *

When Hanna was born, Jonas had a very important conversation with Herobrine that he didn't tell Lydia about until years after. Herobrine called him aside at his workplace one day just as the sun was beginning to set and everyone was going home.

"You know that the dissent is only getting worse," Herobrine began, and Jonas nodded cautiously. His wife had told him about the bands of bandits and the rogue nations that were rising up outside the great cities.

"I want to tell you now while there is still time that my brother and I have had a plan to deal with this for some time. I haven't wanted to use it, but...I'm beginning to think that I have no choice. Jonas swallowed.

"What is this... plan?" he asked. Herobrine grinned mirthlessly and looked away, gazing over the unfinished hall.

"I understand your anxiety, old friend," Herobrine said. "You have a newborn child, after all, and a wife with a dangerous occupation. More so these days." Herobrine turned to face Jonas. "The rogues are killing people, Jonas. Each other, and people within my cities and places where my shrines are put up. They are evil, and they must be punished." He turned away again. "I just don't want to do it until I must."

"What are you going to do?" Jonas asked, moving closer to Herobrine. Herobrine looked over his shoulder.

"I cannot tell you yet, but I swear to you, you and your family will be safe. For as long as you remain loyal to the ways of goodness, no harm will come to you by my doing. I must let my people know that evil cannot go unpunished. That is all."

Jonas bowed and turned to leave.

"Take care, Jonas," Herobrine called as he left.

* * *

Hanna grew quickly over the next few years. She was what they would call a very happy baby, always giggling and bouncing and moving around until she, at last, wore herself out and fell asleep wherever she ended up. Alayne would then pick her up and carry her to the crib in the master bedroom, staying by it and rocking it while singing a soft lullaby. Lydia would listen from the doorway.

Alayne had a low, husky voice that had a crackling undertone, as one who had shouted too much in her lifetime. But when she sang, Lydia thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. When she sang, her voice was smooth and breathy, like a whispered secret. When Hanna finally stopped waking up and wailing whenever Alayne turned away, Lydia's mother would at last stand up and see Lydia standing there, watching her with those big blue eyes, and smile.

When Hanna could stand and walk around on her own, she became much quieter and more watchful. She would especially watch Lydia, and try to imitate the way her big sister did things. When Lydia sat down in a chair at the kitchen table to write in her green diary, Hanna would go up to a chair and try to pull herself into it and sit the same way. Her first word was "up", when she was calling for Lydia to pick her up and put her in the chair.

From that day on, Hanna never left Lydia's side, not for one moment. Alayne decided it was time to let Hanna move into Lydia's room, and Jonas built a bed for her to put right next to Lydia's. It was put in place on Lydia's ninth birthday.

Lydia, of course, wrote it all down in her diary.

For a time, Hanna would watch Lydia with her dark, curious eyes and ask her what she was doing with the green leather-bound book. Lydia smiled.

"It's my diary," she explained. Hanna didn't understand. "I write things in it that I want to remember. I have some stories in here- do you want me to tell them to you?" That got Hanna's attention and instant approval.

Later, Jonas walked by the girl's room and stopped at the closed door when he heard Lydia's voice. It took him a moment to realize that she was telling her little sister the very bedtime stories that he had told her when she was younger. His heart swelled with emotion, and he smiled broadly, continuing on his way as quietly as he could.

* * *

Little Hanna was four when she made up her mind to meet Herobrine.

Jonas had taken some convincing before he finally consented. Hanna had come to him day after day, begging him to let her meet the mysterious man at his workplace that Lydia had told her about. Jonas, thinking of things that his girls didn't know about, refused, but it got harder each time. At last, he called Lydia down to speak with him. Lydia was eleven at the time.

"Lydia, honey, how much have you been telling Hanna?" Jonas asked as he sat Lydia down at the table. Lydia looked up at him with an expression of confusion.

"I've just been telling her the stories," she answered, and Jonas shook his head and sat down, running his hands through his sandy-colored hair. "And about that time you took me to work," she amended.

"Listen," he began, "I need you to know that things right now aren't the same as they were when I took you. I can't take someone Hanna's age to the site. It just isn't safe."

"I could come with her," Lydia protested. "I'll watch out for her, I promise!" Jonas realized what his daughter meant.

"You wanted to see him again, too," he said, and Lydia slowly nodded, looking abashed and glancing away.

"Look at me," Jonas ordered, and Lydia complied. "I love you. I just want to keep you and your sister safe. It's okay to want to see him again. Lord Herobrine is a good man, and a gracious god. But there are other people that live in that part of the city that are very bad people. They want to destroy what Herobrine is doing for us, and they don't like those of us that support him. I'm worried that they might hurt you." Lydia opened her mouth to protest.

"No, Lydia. I can't have any arguments. I won't take you and Hanna to come with me because it isn't safe. I could never, ever forgive myself if anything ever happened to either of you. Please, Lydia, try to understand." The girl's slender shoulders slumped. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," Lydia answered glumly, and she got up from the table and went back up the stairs to her room to tell Hanna.

But Alayne heard the entire conversation.

"Darling, you don't have to take them on site. I can arrange something." Alayne offered. Jonas looked up.

"What do you mean? You can't possibly-"

"Jonas, there's always the break day. No one will be on site, and Lord Herobrine will have no reason to be there. I've talked to him. He's willing to come to the gardens for a day to meet the girls."

Jonas's eyes widened, and he shook his head and laughed.

"I knew there was a reason I married you," he said as he stood up from the table. "When did you speak with him, exactly?"

"As a ranger of the city of Luminara, I often have guard duty at the south end of the King's Hall construction site." Alayne said in a mock-pompous tone. "I had the honor of speaking to him when he was taking a stroll by the wall. I've been listening to Hanna begging this long- when else will she get the chance?" Jonas stepped closer to Alayne and caressed her face.

"Thank you," Jonas said meaningfully, and kissed his wife.

* * *

It was a beautiful day when the entire house packed up a picnic meal and traveled to the gardens. Lydia rode with her father, riding behind him this time instead of in front on the great chestnut horse. Hanna rode with Alayne on her sleek white mare, in front of her mother holding tight to the saddle horn. Lydia turned to watch them every so often where they rode behind her and her father, and Hanna would silently stare back at her with her dark eyes full of terror. She had never ridden a horse before then.

Neither of the girls knew what was really planned for that day until they stopped at the green at the center of the gardens and tied the horses to the post. Herobrine appeared from behind a tree, and Lydia and Hanna immediately took off running for him. Herobrine pantomimed surprise at seeing them and roared with laughter as the two girls attacked, letting them drag him to the ground.

Alayne was there in an instant, but she didn't move to rescue Herobrine from her daughters. Jonas finished tying the horses' leads before coming, guffawing at the scene. Eventually, Lydia let up and stood, backing away from the immortal. Hanna rolled off long enough to let Herobrine stand, and then immediately reached up, hopping up and down.

"Up!" she squealed, and Herobrine looked between the four-year-old and her father. Jonas shrugged, motioning for him to go ahead. Herobrine grasped Hanna below the shoulders and lifted her up in the air, swinging her around as she laughed aloud with delight. After a few spins, he set Hanna back on her feet and examined her closely.

"You must be Hanna," Herobrine said, holding her tiny hand in his. "You have your mother's eyes. How old are you now?"

"Four!" Hanna said excitedly, accidentally holding up three fingers. Herobrine grinned.

"I don't think that's enough fingers there," he said, and Hanna looked at her hand in embarrassment. Blushing, she fiddled with her hand for a moment and held up four fingers. "There you go." Lifting the child again, he deposited her into Alayne's waiting arms.

"And I remember you," he said, addressing Lydia. "It's been a long while, Lydia. You've grown."

"Thank you," Lydia said, still slightly shy.

Herobrine joined the family for the picnic that day, sitting cross-legged between the two daughters of Jonas. When Alayne reprimanded Lydia for chewing with her mouth open, Herobrine slouched and said "Yes, mother," submissively as if she were speaking to him. Both the girls exploded into laughter. Alayne was not amused. She fearlessly gave Herobrine a withering glare.

"Don't you dare give them any bad ideas," she warned, and Herobrine nodded gracefully, glancing at the girls.

After they ate lunch that day, Alayne and Jonas let their daughters run around and play with Herobrine for several hours into the afternoon, until both of them were thoroughly worn out and ready to go home. Hannah fell asleep in Herobrine's arms, and Lydia slumped against her father.

"Bedtime," Herobrine said in a singsong voice, giving Alayne a knowing smile as he passed the child up to her mother seated on her white mare. Alayne returned the smile as she secured her daughter on the saddle.

But just as Lydia was carefully mounting behind her father, a ruckus broke out from behind the tree line in the garden. Jonas's horse pranced several steps, knocking Lydia off of her tentative foothold in the stirrup. She fell to the ground with a short scream, rolling away from the horse's hooves. Jonas looked at the figures coming from the trees in terror, glancing back at his wife and children.

"Is this...?" Jonas didn't finish his question. An arrow flew out of the woods, coming towards his horse. Herobrine leaped into the arrow's path and stopped it with a blast of fire, turning it to a puff of dust. Then he whirled around and helped Lydia to her feet, and pushed her up onto the horse behind her father without missing a beat.

"Get out of here!" Herobrine shouted. Then he turned to face the oncoming people. "It's turning out worse than I thought," he muttered under his breath.

Jonas and Alayne exchanged glances and slapped the reigns on their steeds. They galloped away without glancing back, trusting Herobrine.

"What's going on?" Lydia asked, clinging to her father fearfully. Jonas did not answer. They rode hard until they reached the house, and Jonas immediately dismounted to help Lydia down, then leaped up again and rode back the way he came. "Where are you going?" Lydia screamed.

Alayne wrapped one strong hand around her elder daughter's arm and hauled her inside, carrying her other child in the other arm. Once safely inside, she shut the door and locked it, bracing it with a chair. Lydia continued to ask what was happening.

"Quiet!" Alayne snapped, and Lydia fell silent in shock. Sighing, Alayne turned around and knelt before her daughter, hugging her close.

"It's going to be okay," she said, trying to convince herself as well. "Jonas went back because some of those people were from his workplace. He thought he could help. He'll be back soon." She sent Lydia up to her room, and then pulled up a chair by the fireplace and sat down herself. There was an icy feeling growing in her belly.

She gripped her hands together before her face and silently waited for her husband to come home.

* * *

Someone pounded on the front door.

Alayne leaped to her feet, snatching up her sword from where it leaned on the side of the fireplace.

"Let us in!" Herobrine shouted through the door. "Jonas is hurt!"

Alayne flew to the door and threw the chair away, fumbling with the lock. As soon as the bolt slid back, the door swung open and Herobrine hurried in, shutting the door behind him. Jonas had one arm thrown across the immortal's shoulders, and was leaning on him heavily. Herobrine had a long tear at the hem of his shirt, but didn't show any injuries. Jonas, on the other hand, had a bright weal forming under one eye, and he was limping as he stumbled along with Herobrine. Alayne narrowed her eyes.

Lydia came rushing down the stairs when she heard the noise.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed when she saw her father. Jonas tried to stand on his own and sagged again with a groan.

"Lydia," Alayne said, "Come help your father to the kitchen." Lydia quickly came to Jonas's side and helped him stand up and hobble into the next room. Herobrine and Alayne regarded each other coolly.

"What happened?" Alayne asked stiffly. Herobrine glanced behind him through the window on the door.

"A riot broke out outside my shrine. Jonas was knocked off of his horse, but he's just winded. He'll be all right in a few hours. It was over what began last night. There were people who did not approve." Herobrine explained. Alayne gasped.

"You mean the monsters?" she asked, aghast, and Herobrine nodded. "Those were your doing?" He nodded again.

"As I told your husband," Herobrine began, "You and your family will be safe from them. They cannot harm you. They are there as a guard against evil- but judging from the response," He looked out the window meaningfully, "The problem runs much deeper than I anticipated."

"What should we do?" Alayne snapped. "A riot in Luminara! We can't stay here when so many people hate you for what you've done!" Herobrine shook his head.

"No," he agreed, "You cannot. You must take your family out of the city. You came from the highlands in the south- I trust you have family or property there, still?"

"I do," Alayne answered. Herobrine smiled, giving a sigh of relief.

"Excellent. I am sending Drayda and her brothers with you. Now-" Herobrine turned away as the noise outside crescendoed suddenly. "I have matters I must attend to. You must hurry." At that, he threw open the door and strode out, mounting a huge black charger and turning to gallop down the street. Alayne watched him as he rode towards the forming crowd. Then she slammed the door and called Hanna from her room.

The family hurried to pack in the moments that followed. Lydia paused as she picked up her green diary. Lightly kissing the cover, she slipped it into her pack with her clothes.

Drayda appeared at the door just as Lydia was closing the clasp.

"It's time to go, girls," she said grimly. "Before the mob burns the house."


	4. Plotting

**CHRONICLE**

BOOK ONE: LYDIA

PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY

_Chapter three: Plotting_

* * *

**Present Day**

_The priest had stopped writing hours ago. He had meant to polish up the notes he had taken earlier, but now that he was reading the diary in detail, he couldn't help but to be drawn in by it. There was a broad gap in time between entries as he went on, as though Lydia had lost interest for a time after she turned eight. Then they came back in full force when Lydia was eleven. _

_The priest saw something that startled him before- he had marked the page for reference and was going back to it now. It was something that twelve-year old Lydia had written down that suggested something incredible. At first, she just called it 'that night'. It was something that she wrote down in detail apparently some time after it had happened. Something she didn't know about until she was much older. The priest read the handwritten words over and over, making sure he was absolutely certain before making any conclusions. _

_Lydia and her family fled the city as Herobrine faced down crowds of angry people in the golden city- what was it called?- Luminara. That was 'city of light' in an old tongue. That implied several things- first of all, Herobrine was not completely evil. Not in the way some people thought. The priest thought back to the rumors that had spread from the East out of the desert- the ones that began with a very old Son of Steve, possibly the last one alive. What was his name? The priest couldn't remember. _

_Someone was knocking on the door to his room in the inn. The priest shut the diary in annoyance. _

_"Yes?" he called, and a young white-robed man walked in. One of the apprentices in the town. "What is it?" The priest tried not to be too prickly after being disturbed. _

_"I have the reports you sent for," he said, withdrawing a roll of papers from his sleeve and handing them to the priest. The priest thanked the young man, and sent him away again. _

_"Can you tell anyone else that I need to be left alone for a while? Perhaps a 'do not disturb' sign on the door? I need time to focus." the priest asked. _

_"I'll see what I can do," the man answered, and left, shutting the door behind him. The priest took a look at the roll of pages he now held in one hand. _

_These were several accounts from various kingdoms in the domain of the Sons of Steve. Few were actually written by the Steves themselves- few survived long enough to tell their tales. The priest leafed through the reports and then threw them down on the desk in exasperation. All of them said the same thing, over and over with few real answers. Then he stopped for a moment. One of the reports..._

_He picked it up again. It was marked 'Fall of Arrenvale'. The name on the signature was one that he knew he recognized, he just couldn't remember where. He checked the diary, in the back near the last pages. Yes, that was the name. Corren. This report was written by a Steve- the nephew of this very Lydia, in fact. There was no mistaking it- all the facts matched when he checked. _

_The priest decided to take another look at the places in the diary. He looked at the date on the report- 339. It was written this year. Maybe he would be able to meet Corren in person. That would help things, surely. _

_The priest made careful note of the locations of his destinations, and then packed up his things. His donkey awaited him outside. Scrambling up onto the saddle, the priest made for Lydia's homestead in the mountains. _

_Perhaps he could sort out exactly what happened in the tragedy fifty years ago._

* * *

**Year 252 F.E. (First Era)  
**

There are some things that were never recorded in the green diary. Many truths, and many devious plots lying under the surface of what was commonly known. Lydia never knew what began that night before she and her family fled the city, but what happened that night was earthshaking. The Overworld was never the same again.

The courier slipped down the alleyways of Luminara as quickly as he could, avoiding the pools of torchlight from the windows and the street lamps. His message was rolled up and tucked in his shirt. Nothing moved on the streets around him- it was deadly quiet. The quiet ruffled him. It made him think that he would be more easily caught. If anyone was watching him...No. No one was watching him. Even if someone was, he could think of an excuse. A friend of his had left something at his house, and he couldn't wait until morning to return it...

After a few more breathless strides, the messenger turned a corner and flattened himself against the wall, waiting for his breath to slow. He strained his ears listening for any sound of a pursuer or a trail, but the night remained heavily silent. Good. The man peeled himself off the wall and stalked to the third door down, tapping a pattern of beats on the wood with his fingertips. Someone immediately cracked open the door.

"Who hails in the starlight?" A gruff voice called. 'Starlight' was the codeword. The messenger softly cleared his throat.

"One who would like to get out of the fog." he answered. 'Fog' was the response if he was confident he had not been tracked or followed. If he had, he would have answered 'rain'.

"Enter." the voice said, and the door opened fully to allow the man inside. The messenger stepped gratefully into the light, and the door shut behind him.

The messenger stood in a large common room with a roaring fire in the brick fireplace at the end of the room and a pair of benches just before the blaze. There were four other men in the room. One leaned on the warm bricks by the fire, a tall, burly man in a cyan shirt and blue pants. He had the marks of a miner, and a scratched diamond pick leaned against the wall beside him. Another was pacing the room behind the benches, wearing dark pants and a the green tunic of a forester. There was another sitting stiffly on one of the benches in the same uniform. A man in red lounged easily on the other bench.

"Our messenger has arrived," the pacing forester announced, and the other three looked up at the courier. That was the gruff voice that had opened the door for him.

"Let's see it," the miner impatiently grumbled. The messenger fumbled for the scroll in his shirt, handing it to the forester. The man snatched it immediately in one leather-gloved hand and unrolled it, reading aloud.

"The southern quarter has started sending out guards to keep the peace. The rangers of the forest have been asked to help guard the borders of the Kingswatch construction site, and I now give the order to move the bands away from that sector for the time being.

The street hands have been hard at work in the city council, and unrest is growing against H. I have received word from L, keep harrying the satellite settlements to the North.

Be ready in three days. L is coming here."

The forester rolled up the scroll as his companions gawked.

"He's coming here?!" the seated forester exclaimed. "Ari, you know what this means-"

"Of course I do," Ari said nonchalantly, tossing the scroll into the fire. "Amand, come sit down." The messenger carefully came to the bench where the red-shirted man moved over to make room.

"Don't get too worked up, Jortis," The miner warned. "He doesn't like doubt you know. Remember what happened to Surya?" Jortis shivered. A mine had collapsed only a few weeks earlier, and Surya, the only one of the group to try and leave, had been crushed to death. Beor, the big miner that stood in the room now, had witnessed it happen, and had known exactly who was responsible. Ari turned and faced the group, the firelight gleaming in his black hair.

"Now, this is what I have planned to do..." Ari began.

Through the entire meeting, none of the men realized they had an eavesdropper on the roof, listening through the chimney. The tall, dark-eyed figure rose from his perch as the men emerged from the building in pairs and went off into the night, and focused on the black-haired forester.

He had been watching these meetings for some time now, not knowing exactly how to act. It had all begun with just a few rogues vanishing into the countryside, but now there were men like this in the city. Men like this who would bring about the downfall of his people. He had to act. There was no longer any time. They would overthrow his laws and his appointed leaders, and bring the peace of the city crashing down. He was reluctant at first, but deep in his heart there was a growing anger. Better to follow the anger, he reasoned, then that other feeling. That black pit of guilt and regret. These were his people- was it his fault they became this way? Herobrine brushed the thought aside. He needed to move. The man was getting away.

Breathing in deeply, Herobrine lifted off of the roof tiles and floated gently in the air, just a few fingers up in the air. Silent as a shadow, he stayed low to the rooftops as he trailed the black-haired man, waiting for the messenger to leave him and catch him on his own.

Herobrine narrowed his eyes. This was the man- the leader of this group. He would use this one to find the one really orchestrating the growing evil.

The black haired man-Ari, he said his name was- said farewell to the messenger at a crossroads, and walked alone down the main thoroughfare in the bright pools of light of the street lamps. Herobrine flew silently ahead of him, confident he would not be seen with the lights below, and dropped down into an unlit alleyway. He drew out his pick, waiting with his back to the wall for the man to pass.

Footsteps scraped on the stones just before the corner. Herobrine whirled his pick out into the open, hooking the man across the chest, and yanked him into the alley. Instantly, he had his hand over the man's mouth and the pick firmly secured so that the forester couldn't use his arms. The forester grunted and struggled, and instantly froze as Herobrine turned his head far enough to see his face.

"Shh," Herobrine whispered. "I wouldn't need you waking the city. As a matter of fact, you wouldn't either. Not with what I know." Ari paled. "That's right. The raids from the forest. The missing children. You saw what happened to the men who kidnapped them. You saw what I did at the shrines. And do you know what will happen to the man that gave the order?" The forester visibly swallowed, but he looked Herobrine steadily in the eye. He was confident in himself, Herobrine had to give him that.

"You can save yourself, perhaps," Herobrine mused, moving so that he had the man pinned with his back against the wall. "There is one last piece of the puzzle I need. One more name I have not yet located. I will, eventually, without help, but I would prefer to do things quickly. Who sent you that note?" _And who is L? _But he left that much unsaid. Better find that out from the next one. Herobrine pried his hand off the man's jaw. Ari smirked.

"Whatever I tell you isn't going to change much for me." Ari said in a low, mocking voice. "This city needs change- and we don't need you." Herobrine slapped him in the face.

"A name, Ari," Herobrine spat, "And nothing more. Allow me to make this clear- you will die here and now if you do not." Ari rolled his head back up to face Herobrine again.

"Will I?" Ari retorted. "You'll probably want me to lead you to the rat hole- no, you won't kill me-" Ari jerked suddenly, shoving out against the pick holding him in place and then back again, and then down. Herobrine's pick rattled against the wall with the man suddenly gone, rolling himself off the ground and running out onto the street. Herobrine followed.

The clever forester, however fast he was, was no match for Herobrine. Herobrine flew up over his head and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up and up into the air, high over the city. Ari gasped but did not scream. He immediately went rigid, grasping the collar of his tunic with both hands.

Herobrine went far enough that they left the city itself and came upon a small lake. Herobrine dropped Ari, and the forester howled as he fell and splashed down into the water. Then the god watched with contempt as the man swam desperately for shore, and dropped down on the sand just as the man dragged himself out of the water.

"It seems you underestimated how serious I am," Herobrine said softly in a tone that gave Ari chills. He slowly approached the man, who scrambled to his feet and started unconsciously backing away. "You and all the others you work with are trying to destroy the peace I have made. Don't bother with explaining-" He interjected when Ari opened his mouth. "I already know. You want more than this, and not just for yourselves. You want less for others, too. You want to be above other people, the ones you call weak and useless. But you are equal to them in my eyes- I created all of you. Do not try to hide this from me. Who is your leader, who sent you a messenger and a note tonight?" Ari spat at him.

With a wordless cry, Ari charged at Herobrine with his fists raised. Herobrine dodged aside, but Ari attacked again, picking up a large fallen limb. Herobrine arced his pick around and knocked it away. On the backstroke, the sharp end of the pick drove into Ari's chest and flattened him on the ground. He coughed once, shuddered, and was still.

Herobrine sighed. This was not the first time he had dealt with this. He had captured numerous conspirators, judged them, and often as not, executed them. He had closed off mines and created restrictions to winnow out the evildoers. But he found himself no closer to the root of the problem. Not for the first time, he wished his brother were here. While Herobrine could not see fully into the hearts of men, Notch could. It would be so much simpler, if only he were on the Overworld.

Removing his diamond pick, now glistening red, he dropped it aside and let one hand hover over the dead man's heart, close but not touching. A faint light drew out of the wound, gathering into a tight sphere under Herobrine's hand. This was the man's soul, and all he could do now, was send it on its way to be judged by his brother. Lifting his hand, he sent the orb into the skies where it would rise to the Aether, to await Notch.

"Now, you bastard, I'll make proper use of you." Herobrine muttered. "You know who to seek out. Now you'll spend the rest of eternity destroying the very evil you allied with. Go, and know you can never touch innocent blood again." Herobrine drew power from his mental reserves and pushed it in a steady stream into the lifeless body. The eyes darkened, and the skin fell loose and rotting. The corpse became reanimated, and Herobrine sent it in the direction he knew a band of raiders camped. Other bodies followed, rising up out of the dirt, fueled by Herobrine's rage.

He could not find the leader- but he could show whoever it was his power. His hand had been forced. Now it was time to teach his opponent not to play with life and death. That was the game at which Herobrine was best at.

And he wasn't yet finished. He flew up into the air once more, landing in a desert basin. Many cacti stood in the lonely sands. Herobrine went up to one and let it animate just as the body had before. The plant at once sent out vines that wrapped into four small feet. As a subtle touch, Herobrine gave it openings that imitated an expression of anguish.

"Go and spread your spores." Any evildoer that met with one of these would find a nasty surprise- the plant would explode, killing its attacker and spreading spores to grow more. Another creature followed- a spider, enhanced to man-size. No walls could keep such a creature out.

Herobrine would protect all of his people from these horrors. He swore that night that no righteous man or woman or child would come to harm from his new creation, but any that shunned his laws and his protection would find themselves swarmed by the deadly creatures of the night.

Wearied, Herobrine flew once again into the starry skies, back to Luminara.

He had warned the rangers of this ahead of time- he was confident that any that needed to know what he was doing would know. He decided to get some rest with his work done- he had an appointment the next day with one of his loyal followers, and his two delightful children.

Herobrine thought of little Lydia and smiled.

_If only more of my people were still like you. _

A dark figure watched Herobrine fly past and nodded in satisfaction. Herobrine, he thought, was so predictable. Everything was going just as planned. Then he vanished without a trace.

* * *

**Ooh, this is getting fun! Who sent that letter? Who is this "L"? What does it mean? Things are definitely starting to heat up around here! Maybe this will clear up some of the things that happened in the wars and the fall of you-know-who. (I never dreamed writing prequels could be so much fun!)**

**We have...wait for it... MONSTERS! Now what?! Things are about to get messy! **

**I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I liked writing it. If you did, please leave a REVIEW. I have a goal of FIFTY (count 'em, 50) reviews before I finish Book One of the Chronicle. Can I make it? That's up to you! Fifty reviews, and make 'em good! The more I get, the faster I update (and the more I add.) Any extra details and characters you want me to toss in and play with? I'll need them before long. (Think about it. I've got a whole city of people about to start a civil war. I need extra character ideas- I can't just pull these out of a hat.) Leave that in a review. I'll see what I can add. **

**See you next chapter! Huntress out.**


	5. Sparks

**CHRONCLE**

BOOK ONE: LYDIA

PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY

_Chapter Four: Sparks_

Herobrine leaped up onto his black warhorse and closed his legs on the animal's sides. Immediately the great charger sprang forward, galloping down the street to meet the crowd head-on, sparks flying from the cobbles in his wake. The wind picked up, spurring the rider on and flattening the crowd back. He didn't risk a glance back to ensure the safety of Jonas and his family. They were on their own now- he had other matters to deal with.

The mob, for example.

As Herobrine pounded closer and closer, the crowd stopped moving forward, but they did not retreat. Herobrine narrowed his eyes and did not let his horse slow.

Just as he was about to barrel into the front ranks, he leaned back and pulled sharply on the reigns. The black horse stopped short and reared, warding off the nearest people with its raised hooves.

Thunder rolled in the skies and dark clouds began to roll in ominously on the high winds. For several heartbeats, no one moved.

"Is this not what you called for?" Herobrine shouted over the wind to the crowd. "Did you not call for me to come out?"

A wave of muttering swept over the crowd, some of it angry, some of it fearful. Herobrine analyzed the crowd as it shifted and murmured, his black irises flinty in the stormy light. Blinding light flashed overhead, and the smell of ozone filled the air as thunder rolled again.

"Here I am," Herobrine shouted, releasing the reigns and spreading his arms wide. The crowd fell deadly silent, replying with only steely glares. Herobrine dropped his arms and nudged the horse forward with his knees to walk a few steps closer. The front ranks drew back to let him by, but not out of fear of him. They were just keeping out of the way of his horse. Herobrine knew something was wrong as his horse waded into the crowd. These people had reacted too quickly, too violently, to too vast of an extreme. He wondered deeply who had riled up the populace like this. What had started this chain of events in the first place.

A hoarse voice shouted from the crowd and broke his concentration.

"What coward stays mounted so he can ride away to safety instead of facing us like a man?" Herobrine's head snapped around and immediately located the speaker- a stout, brown-haired man with watery brown eyes.

_Ahh, he does have a point, _Herobrine thought. Best not to make them any angrier. He knew just how delicate the situation was- not complying could enliven the mob again, and then where would he be? Best not to assert his power here- these were his people, not criminals.

"A coward would not have ridden out to meet you," Herobrine called to the speaker. Securing the reigns around the saddle horn, he swung one leg over the saddle and slid off, landing lightly on the ground with his hands half-raised in a gesture of peace. "I am not here to do harm."

Immediately, a stone struck him in the face.

Herobrine had sensed it coming, but he decided not to react. As he reached up to touch his now-bleeding cheekbone, he examined the thrower of the stone closely. It was a teenage girl, tall and wiry with dark hair. She had forced her way through the crowd to attack Herobrine face-to-face, and now stood before him with feet apart and fists clenched, glaring back at him with icy blue eyes. Herobrine knew who this was.

_Ari, _he thought. That was the name of her father- Ari, the rogue, the one responsible for the deaths of six people.

And now here was his daughter, standing here, pointing one trembling finger at him accusingly.

"You," she hissed, jaw clenched. "You killed my father." Another stone flew at Herobrine from another angle and another wave of muttering went through the crowd. Several angry exclamations were heard, but no one else attacked. Herobrine caught the stone right before it collided with his temple without looking up. Leveling his gaze at the girl, he dropped the stone and let it clatter to the ground.

"You know for what crimes your father died," Herobrine replied coldly. "He killed six others among this city, and was responsible for many others through accomplices. He paid the price. By taking others' lives, he made his own forfeit. Is that not fair?"

The crowd roiled with angry outcries.

"Who are you to decide justice for us like that?" someone shouted. Other voices took up the cry.

"Tyrant!"

"You have no right to judge us!"

"We can govern ourselves!"

Herobrine knew the situation was spiraling out of control then.

"You say such things, yet hundreds of your own kind are at war against you, killing and stealing!" Herobrine bellowed. "And yet, you do nothing! You will not empower yourselves against injustice! You are divided against one another. You are not ready to govern yourselves!"

The crowd fell silent all of a sudden, and Herobrine hoped that they had listened to him. But one man cried out and dashed that hope in an instant.

"Bastard!"

The entire crowd exploded into action, and, raising their torches and stones, surged forward as one.

* * *

Scrambling down the stairs, Lydia struggled with the straps of her pack one-handed with Hanna's hand firmly clasped in her other. Drayda was at the base of the stairs, helping Alayne pack up the bare essentials. Outside, the noise increased. There was a sound like tearing fabric and the ground shook with a deafening blast of thunder. As if cautiously testing them, a low tap-tap of rain began to come down on the roof.

Then a wave of rain blew into the house with a sound like a cascade of pebbles. The wind howled, and the rain fell harder and harder, coming down in sheets.

Jonas finished tying a kerchief around his head to staunch the bleeding on a fresh weal, and then crossed the living room and opened the back door of the house by the stairs. A wave of rain blew in, soaking the floorboards. He nodded to Alayne and Drayda and vanished into the storm, holding his cloak tightly around himself.

Alayne swept Hanna up into her arms and Drayda snatched Lydia's hand, adjusting the straps on her pack with a series of short, merciless jerks. Then Lydia was pulled out the door, a cloak thrown about her shoulders just before she was thrust out into the freezing rain. Struggling to see, Lydia splashed after the blurry outline of her mother as Drayda towed her along towards a few blotches of horse-shaped color.

Other rangers and forest-wanderers awaited them at the fence. Drayda was shouting something in Lydia's ear- she shook her head to show that she couldn't understand her over the storm. Drayda sighed and shoved Lydia into the arms of a black-cloaked ranger, who lifted her onto the saddle of his gray-mottled horse before leaping up behind her on the saddle.

The door slammed. Lydia could just make out Alayne as she locked the back door of the house and crossed the yard in a few running strides, mounting her white mare behind Hanna. The four-year-old sat stiffly on the saddle, not making a sound as the rain poured down and the saddle, much too big for her, strained her legs. She snuggled close to her mother, eyes wide. Alayne wrapped her daughter's cloak tighter around her tiny shuddering body and hugged her tightly. From where Hanna was sitting, she couldn't see the murderous look on Alayne's face at what was happening.

No child should have to go through this. Especially not any child of her's.

"Let's go!" Drayda commanded, wheeling her horse about. The other rangers followed quickly, digging their knees in and urging their horses into a gallop. Lydia wrapped her hands around the saddle horn and held on tight.

Rain whipping their faces, wind buffeting their cloaks, the party rode out down side-streets and down the paths that would take them out of the city. Lydia thought she heard other horses galloping after them, but it was hard to tell thunder from the sounds of pursuit. She tried to twist around to look, but the ranger she was riding with pushed her head forward again with one elbow, shouting for her to stay still. Swallowing, Lydia settled back down and hoped that they would make it out without trouble. She thought of the arrow that almost hit her father just hours before and shivered, only half from the cold.

Why were all those people so angry?

All of a sudden, the city wall loomed up dead ahead of them. The entire party turned to go parallel to the wall to reach the gates, and Lydia caught a glimpse of the crowd again from a distance down the street that ran straight through the entire city. There were bright flames visible despite the rain, and a rumble of voices that defied the storm. A cold feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach.

Something went wrong when the first two rangers rode out the gates.

"AMBUSH!" Drayda roared as thunder rolled, and Lydia heard metal ring as the seasoned forester drew her sword. Lydia couldn't see what exactly had happened, but both the rangers were visible through the rain just outside the gates, swinging their swords.

"Get them out!" Drayda ordered, and the horse under Lydia sprang forward, knocking her back into the ranger behind her. As they passed through the gates, she got one swift glance at what Drayda had seen- there were parties of armed fighters outside every gate down the walls. The two rangers were fighting hard to keep them at bay to let Lydia and her family ride safely out. Drayda shot out of the city, her sword swinging down at one of the mounted bandits.

Then Lydia was past the ambushers and could no longer see what transpired behind her.

She couldn't see any of the rest of her family around her, and the ranger wouldn't let her look back. Squeezing her eyes shut, she desperately prayed that they would all get out of this alive.

* * *

Herobrine struggled in a sea of fiery eyes and battering limbs. Someone hit him behind the knee, and he fell to the ground. Immediately the sea of people closed around him, stomping down and thrusting fiery torches at him. He batted them away, and splayed his limbs, unbalancing his nearest assailants. Leaping up, he flew up into the air, but someone grabbed his ankle. He could have flown away, but what would that have done except terrified this new attacker into losing his grasp and falling to his death? Herobrine floated back down, and the sea swallowed him once more.

From that short flight he could see what the riot was really doing. While there were some chanting his name in hatred, there were a vast many others around the streets using the riot as an excuse for violence. Some were throwing rocks without caring who they hit. Some were in groups shattering windows and breaking into shops, coming out with armloads of valuables.

Several windows were gleaming yellow with fire inside, but the rain kept any external fires extinguished. They were looting. Herobrine shook his head- this was simply to surreal. There was simply too much violence.

He needed to distract the mob.

Pushing backwards through the throngs, Herobrine came to a place where he could have a wall to his back. From there, he surveyed his options

There, on the street corner, was a tall ornamental tree. It was on the other side of the than he was trapped on, but it would do to let him out of the choking grasp of the enraged rioters.

Ducking underneath the swing of a heavy length of wood, Herobrine summoned a fireball into his palm. Reaching up, he grabbed his attacker's shoulder and used that to lift himself, slugging the fireball up and over the heads of the crowd. Then he ducked back down and fended off the countless battering fists and sticks as best as he could.

An explosion shook the street. For a moment, the angry cacophony of the crowd turned to surprised screams and everyone turned to view the pillar of fire that sprang up in the darkening night skies.

That was the chance he needed. Flying up into the air, he drew the wind towards himself and made a funnel of stormwinds spiral down at the nearest square in the thick of the crowd. The people there screamed and scattered, opening a space for him. He threw a fireball down to gain their attention, and it landed without exploding and blew flames across the cobbles in a wide circle.

Releasing his focus, Herobrine dropped to the ground and landed with a resounding _boom. _

The noise did not stop, but the nearest rioters halted to regard him coldly. Some of them ran forward to attack, but Herobrine was quite finished being beaten down for one night. He sent a blast of energy outwards that pushed the attackers back the way they came, back into the crowd.

Someone let out a hysterical cry.

"He's using his black magic! See?! _SEE?! _This is what he really is! Get the monster!"

The entire crowd surged towards Herobrine en mass, but all of a sudden, they slowed to a stop, mid-stride.

The raindrops hung frozen in the air, and a warm light filled the street, overpowering the gleam from the fires and the gloom of the storm. The smell of ozone and rain was replaced by a clear, crisp scent that Herobrine knew well. It was the smell of the clean Aether air, high above this world and beyond the mists of the Void. He knew what was happening. With a resigned sigh, he relaxed and closed his eyes.

"What happened here, Herobrine?"

He knew that voice better than any other.

_Notch. _

Herobrine opened his eyes and turned.

There Notch stood, haloed in his golden light. The rest of the world around them was frozen, suspended in time by Notch's power. Herobrine took a deep breath before answering, steadying himself. He felt the mental pressure of his brother's superior power, and he allowed the barriers of his own mind to fall and allow Notch to see everything. Likely, even with time frozen like this, he would not have time to explain in detail. This way was faster.

"Something I was hoping would not come to pass," Herobrine answered. "This," he said, gesturing to the frozen people around him, "is part of something that has been going on for many months now." He sighed. "I only wish whoever it is did not retaliate in such a way.

Notch came up on a blank place in Herobrine's mind. Herobrine sensed his brother's confusion and thought, _I have yet to find out who. _Notch did not respond, but the confusion faded.

He looked around, his dark eyes seeing every face twisted and frozen in rage. He looked back at his brother.

"What have you done to anger your people so?" he asked, brow furrowed. Herobrine looked away.

"It isn't what I have done," Herobrine replied. "It's how they've been told the tale. I'm sure you heard them coming here. They used to love me and they never feared my power. Now they call me a monster who wields black magic." He scoffed lightly, looking up to the sky.

Notch was worried. He had reason to be- he had heard worrying things about what his brother had done on this world, and now he had discovered all of them to be true when he came to investigate. The restrictions, the cat-and-mouse between Herobrine and the growing criminal underworld, the trials and executions, and worst of all, the monsters. Herobrine believed himself at least mostly innocent of guilt, but his mind was tangled with unseen motives and hidden plans. Whatever he had gotten into, he was in deep.

"You didn't need to go to such extremes," Notch said. "Why have you driven your people to this point?"

Herobrine looked at Notch sharply.

"This was not meant to drive them to anything!" he snapped. "Notch, there is something else out there. Something that is eluding my powers of perception, and it's corrupting my people. I have to do whatever I can to root out this evil, and quickly. Please, you must understand."

Notch sighed.

"I know what this looks like!" Herobrine exclaimed, suddenly fearful as his brother turned his back. "You must know it. You have seen the truth in the souls of these people. Something is wrong here. The monsters- you know what that meant. I had to act."

"I know," Notch breathed, barely loud enough for Herobrine to hear. Herobrine fell silent, grateful. Notch looked back over his shoulder to Herobrine. "I will do what I can for now. We will speak of this again later."

As Notch turned away and broke off the mental connection, a deep sense of dread pierced his heart.

_Laskig warned me of this,_ he thought, opening the way to ascend to the Aether once more.

Herobrine watched as his brother faded from sight and the light of the Aether faded back into the dull glow of late dusk. Slowly, the raindrops regained momentum and the people began to move again.

He was left to face the crowd on his own.

* * *

At last, Drayda and her party of rangers broke free of the ambushers and rejoined Jonas and his family.

"Go!" she shouted over the wind. Jonas nodded and urged his horse faster, drawing alongside the ranger that carried Lydia. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she weakly smiled back.

"It's going to be okay," he said, but the storm tore his words away. He didn't know if any of his family heard him or not.

Drayda rode up behind Alayne to shield her and her child from any opportunist ambushers. Twisting on the saddle, she caught a glimpse of a few riders still whole enough to follow. Grimly, she decided that would have to changed.

Turning back forward, she nocked an arrow on her bow and twisted backwards again and fired. One of the riders went down. The other two behind the unfortunate pursuer were caught up in the fall, and all three disappeared from sight as the ranger party entered the forest.

The family rode on through the night, all sounds of pursuit lost to the forest.


End file.
